The Story of Jax
by Deg87
Summary: This is a story of a Stallion's revenge, cased in iron.


You open your eyes. You find yourself in the middle of quite a small and tightly knit village. Averagely built houses with wood, and hay on top serving as a roof. There was a fire in the middle, which was mean't as a waypoint or marker for those that served outside of the village. Your eyes drift off to the left. You see a mare in a 1800's styled dress and a colt that looked about in his teen years. The mare had a soft curly mane and a deep chocolate-like coat. Her eyes were a deep blue and she wore a kind, motherly smile. The colt was just about the same, having a lighter brown of a coat, a wild blue and somewhat gray mane, and he was quite tall for his age. Not to mention that he didn't have metallic arms... they were bare and brown like the rest of him. The mare spoke in a soft and warm tone to the colt, "Jax? Would you be a dear and gather some firewood for the elderly? The farmers have been talking of a coldfront coming in." Jax, who wore ragged and patch-worked pants that were stitched together, smiled and nodded. Jax hastily took off, willing to help anyone in his village. Jax exited the southern edge of the village and entered the deep woods. He quickly plucked fallen branches and sticks off the ground. Making sure that they were perfectly dry and perfect for firewood. After about ten to fifteen minutes of wood gathering, Jax had an arm-full of branches in his right arm. He carefully hauled the giant load of firewood towards the village. Jax stopped for a short moment in the midst of his travel back... his ears twitched. Something was quite wrong. He glanced around and looked. There were no birds chirping. Not a single insect made a peep. And most of all, the usual chatter from his village had fallen quiet. Jax placed down the wood, making sure to not jump to any conclusions before he really knew, and he jogged towards his village a bit faster. He smelled ashes. Definetely not a good sign. Jax quickend his pace and finally made it to the edge of his village. Jax's heart stopped. Destroyed. His village was in ruins. Fire, ash and rubble was all that was left. Several buildings only stood, but were soon to crumble from the flames. But the worst part... was that blood mixed with the ash and soot. Jax's villagemates had littered all over the ground. Jax's bare foot pressed against the ash-mixed ground as he surveyed the damage... how could this have happened in so little time? And why would something or someone do this? Anger boiled at Jax's heart as he asked that. Why? They did nothing to deserve this. They were a peaceful and loving village.

Then. It all snapped as Jax looked up at his semi-destroyed house. It was a flag. Of the infamous Hunters. Jax cried out in the middle of his village. Not of sorrow. Not of grief. But vengenace and the desire for revenge. Jax's hands dug at a piece of ground, only to reveal a hidden cellar door. Jax wasted no time to break it open, the door flying off their hinges as Jax jumped inside the hidden cellar. Dozens of barrels and other boxes were inside the cellar, but Jax went passed it all and opened a averagely sized strongbox. It had several iron ingots inside it. But the iron had something imbued with it that gave it a certain glisten. Jax took the strongbox and hurried up back to the surface. Jax scanned his destroyed village and prayed it was still working. His prayers were answered as he saw the salvagable blacksmith building. Jax took what he needed. The molten ore was still hot and the flames were still lit inside the forge. Jax worked quickly. He needed to work quickly. He couldn't waste anymore time than he already had. Jax smelted down the iron ingots into a fine molten liquid. He then took two long rectangular molds and poured the red hot metal inside the molds. Jax sat them up straight and he inhaled deeply, preparing himself for what he was about to do... without thought and regret. He plunged his arms into the liquid metal. And screamed.

Two hours had passed. The metal had cooled and hardened. But Jax had not. Jax kneeled with the molds around his arms, sweat dripped from his body and the air smelled of burnt flesh. To many people, this would be taboo or madness. Or just plain foolishness. But Jax knew what he was doing. His father gave him these iron ingots, but told him they weren't for ordinary forging of weapons. Jax was confused as a child as what his father mean't. What his father was handing him was iron ingots that were infused with skin-bonding minerals. Jax was born with the gift of incredible strength... and the gift of a heart. His father saw this and knew that the day would come where Jax would need these iron ingots for the future. And the future was now. Jax stumbled as he dragged himself to his feet. The metal molds grind against the ground before Jax gives a jerk to the molds and they slide off with ease. The iron ingots where nothing but cooled iron rectangles around his arms. Jax gave a growl before bashing them together. Loose iron chunks fell from his arms and littered the ground around him. They were done. Jax's arms had been completely encased and bonded with iron, from his finger tips to his shoulders. Jax flexed and bent his arms, hands and fingers. Some more smaller chunks of iron fell from his bending joints.

Jax spent a day of resting and burying the dead near his village. Giving one last prayer to Luna, he turned away from his village and began his hunt.


End file.
